


Again I'm left without a name. GHB and Summoner headcanon younger years bullshit blah blah ignore me.

by narcissisticSpaghetti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, M/M, teenage years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:46:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissisticSpaghetti/pseuds/narcissisticSpaghetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a blue, his shirt symbol the color of deep clear water, and two simple words said. Kurloz was used to it. He heard it often enough and had lost all concept of resentment to hear a lowerblood called as such. He knew it was in this particular brown’s nature to piss people off.</p><p>And It was perfectly within his nature to stand up to a challenge or an insult from a Blue passing through. He was just smart enough to not actually do it.</p><p>At least, Kurloz had thought he was.He had also assumed he was smart enough not to start a fight, punching the other in the face and laughing that broken laugh that sounded vaguely of a hoofbeast’s nicker and had the unique capability of pissing him off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again I'm left without a name. GHB and Summoner headcanon younger years bullshit blah blah ignore me.

“Useless shitblood,”

It had been a blue, his shirt symbol the color of deep clear water, and two simple words said. Kurloz was used to it. He heard it often enough and had lost all concept of resentment to hear a lowerblood called as such. He knew it was in this particular brown’s nature to piss people off.

And It was perfectly within his nature to stand up to a challenge or an insult from a Blue passing through. He was just smart enough to not actually do it.

At least, Kurloz had thought he was. He had also assumed he was smart enough not to start a fight, punching the other in the face and laughing that broken laugh that sounded vaguely of a hoofbeast’s nicker and had the unique capability of pissing him off.

It was an interesting scuffle, to say the least. At first. After not too long though a large circle had formed around the brown in question and the anonymous blue, while a loud cacophony of cheers, jeers and insults was permeating the atmosphere of the entire town.

Kurloz was vaguely amused by the entire event, rolling his eyes at the violent shenanigans, but he wasn’t watching very closely. He only listened over his shoulder as he sat in his hive overlooking the small settlement, a young royal left in charge of a trading town between cities. There were less than two thousand trolls in his jurisdiction but he had a lot on his plate nonetheless.

All of a sudden a loud. hollow scream rose up from the crowd gathered on the street and the cheering turned to hush. Kurloz looked out the window to see what had happened and it was not particularly pretty; The blueblood lay on the ground, a puddle escaping from behind his legs of thick blue liquid, and the entire scene was suddenly silent. The blue was dead or dying, and there was no saving him.

 

 

* * *

 

“WHAT THE MOTHERFUCK HAPPENED??” The presiding purple demanded of what was left of the gathered group.

Fingers pointed toward the bronze, still standing in the middle of the now broken ring. Something looked off about how he held himself up, he didn’t have the same cockiness to his shoulders that just screamed “I know I’m smarter than you.”

“Brownblood, tell me what happened.” It didn’t feel right on his tongue to call him that, he aches to use his name and reprimand him for one of his usual petty crimes. But now a highblood was dead and this could get ugly, politically speaking.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“We were strifeing, and he just . . . screamed. I think someone else ruined his legs, I never got a clear shot at them. I swear!”

He has refused to speak in public, demanding instead a fair trial. But the closest the Alternian system had to a fair trial in their shit town was a congression of blues and low to mid purples who all voted in favor of culling the bastard, even though he had witnesses that said they saw another person cull the victim.

There were also a large group (of mostly midbloods and higher) that claimed that the defendant was lying and that Rufioh had killed the man in cold blood. One of whom was the dead man’s matesprite, nearly doubled over in grief as his moirail had to hold his hand in court.

The matesprite had not actually been at the strife in question, she had been nearly a mile away, but her teal blood was high enough that the blues still considered her word more important than the word of a gutterblood and they quickly signed him off to be culled in private.

By the authority figure who had been the one to formally report the insurrection. Meaning Kurloz himself.

 

* * *

 

The rustblood was already bleeding, there was an impressive amount of brown pooling around him on the floor and a surprising amount of it was coming from his mouth as he coughed. He glared up at the young Subjuggulator, a fire in his eyes that Kurloz hadn’t seen in anyone sweeps.

He spat on the helpless smaller male in contempt, watching him as he struggled to stay upright, the grimace of pain on his face gave the purpleblood a sudden rush of inspiration.

“I should cull you where you stand. I could. I could slit your neck, pull out those frilly little wings of yours and leave you to bleed and I would never be reprimanded. There are laws stating that I can harm you in any way I see fit for what you have done. And just for the record every possible way I can think of is a fitting punishment for such an impressive show of mockery and rebellion. I am your better, it is written in the very fabric of your being and mine.

“I could easily cull you, spill your blood and let you bleed out slow and painful. It would be a fitting addition to the already varied collection of stains on my chamber floor. But somehow, it does not seem worth my effort.

“In fact, I feel the need to let you live, allow you to drag your humiliated ass through shit and torment just a little longer. And for whatever reason I’m going to do just that. So here you go, here is your “Get out of jail free” card, take it and GO.

“Get out of my sight. GET OUT OF MY TOWN. Go as far as you possibly can away and never sully my presence with your filth again. You are as worthless to me as a pile of SHIT.”

“I don’t think you would go off an a monologue to a pile of shit about how you’re not in the mood to flush it away. Something about you strikes me as the type to just-” His sentence was cut short by another blow to the jaw, a staggering amount of force focused into breaking his mouth and cutting off his sarcastic, signature sass.

“I AM GIVING YOU A FUCKING CHANCE TO SAVE YOUR OWN PATHETIC HIDE! ARE YOU JUST GOING TO FLING IT BACK IN MY FACE?” He roared, literally roared, loud and predatory enough to leave the fiercest lion cowering on it’s belly.

He received no response other than a faceful of bloody saliva, spat in his face along with the generous offer of freedom. That stilled him.

He was silent a good six minutes before he turned to exit the room, leaving Rufioh Nitram, a cheeky, rebellious teenager with an apparent death wish to stew in his own juices until he decided to leave.

 

 

* * *

 

It would have turned out better if he had left.

 

 

* * *

 

Kurloz returned nearly a day later, hoping to clean out the torture chamber behind his hive and be done with it, but what he found gave him pause. Rufioh still stood there, in the middle of the room, glaring at him with an impish grin and blood dripping from his nose.

“I thought I told you to get out. You will be culled by another if they find you. You will be a fugitive.” The young Makara was none too pleased with the other’s behavior, already distressed at the prospect of killing this rustblood. Something abotu it felt wrong, like it wasn't destined. To obey the order of a highblood council, even one consisting of snotty blues and distracted purples was taboo in all cases. It was the law, the (admittedly skewed) justice system at work.

“I am innocent.” It was a stupid case, one of a million just like it. A lowblood starts a fight and then gets framed for murdering a higher-up. Classic, mundane. But Kurloz’s blood-pusher skipped a beat thinking this had happened to his own. One he had never been too fond of, but had known for sweeps. That was unacceptable.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

“They do not care. Your trial has passed, they found you guilty. Any attempt to sway their decision will result in automatic culling as their first decision decreed. I can do nothing, especially after you did not take my option to leave.”

“I will not run for I have done nothing wrong.”

This was not right, this was moving too fast. Rufioh had always been scrawny but strong, and had been a near constant in Kurloz’s life from the time they were six. Now, more than eight sweeps later they were faced with this.

“I do not want to cull you. Just go.”

“We have lived in the same town for sweeps, this is home. You know how much this place means to me.”

“I do, but there is still nothing more I can do than let you go and claim you are dead. This is the only thing I can offer.”

Rufioh stared at the purpleblood before nodding and taking a few steps toward the door. Halfway there, he paused, and then was suddenly directly in front of Kurloz, hands on his face. “I will change this broken world in which we live, I swear.”

Kurloz knew it was a failed dream. Many had dreamed it before and many had let it shrivel up and die before him. None had ever amounted to much other than rumors and urban legends. But there was that fire again, and he knew that somehow, the shorter, lanky bronze would find a way.

Rufioh slipped out of Kurloz’s tall lawnring fence and into the nearby tunnel that lead straight out into the forest a few miles West of the town. It was a secret tunnel, built as an easy escape behind the highblood’s hive in case of siege or threat. A place the two of them had FLARPed together in, had hung around often and explored when they were much younger.

He knew it would be a long time if they ever saw each other again, but he had a nagging feeling that it would indeed happen. He certainly hoped so, though what it could mean for the both of them made him grimace.


End file.
